Otis Does Some Bonding
by Zandoz
Summary: House of 1000 Corpses fan fiction. Otis involuntarily spends some time with his nephew and both get some unexpected surprises that day. Also has some random bits from my Son of Otis timeline
1. Dream or Nightmare? Aw, Fuck it

I don't own any of the characters from House of 1000Corpses/The Devil's Rejects and I'm making no money off this. Comments/suggestions are welcome.The story probablywould make more sense after reading my stories Seed of Evil and Son of Otis.

--Summer, 1991--

The thin man blinked his eyes...had he finally lost what little shred of sanity he'd posessed? There was his son, the boy he'd never met standing before him, and the boy's mother, the love/loathing of his life, Stacy Robins. Or was it Driftwood? Did it matter? Family must stick together, after all. They were both happy to see him, mother and son both rawboned and big though not ungainly. The boy had his quickness and grace and pale, pale hair and complexion, he could see.

Then all of a sudden about eight cheerleaders appeared and instead of wanting to cut, rip and violate them he wanted to take them out for ice cream...which he did. After that they all took turns sucking and fucking him and that was quite groovy, that is until he got up and passed by a mirror.

gasp He was short-haired, with not a scar on him, and _clean cut_! Fuckballs!

"AAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHH," he screamed like a bitch.

"Hey, hey, HEY," chastised a familiar female voice. "What the livin' fuck is goin on, Otis?"

Otis opened drowsy eyes and looked about the room, still a bit sleep-addled. "Holy shit," he smacked his lips. He'd fallen asleep in the room Stacy used to sleep in when she stayed with the Fireflys.

"What's with all the squealin," Baby asked again, forehead knotted with worry. Like her dear ma, she'd slipped into the role of mother and matriarch with ease and gusto.

Sitting up, the lean killer scratched his belly absent-mindedly with his metal hand. "Aw, nuthin. A dream."

"Nightmare?"

"Hmmm..about 50/50," he replied, wishing she'd drop it.

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "I need ta talk to yew, Otis."

Dear God, can't she just leave him alone? No wonder he spent all his time in the underground tunnels.

"Well, it's Travis, he's been mopin' about and the circus has come up to Red Deer..."

The man sighs. "And?"

"And I thought it would be a good idea if you two went. Yanno, had some quality time. You haven't spent much time with 'im, after all. It'd be good for the both o' you."

"I ain't got squat in common with the crazy idiot child! He's more queer than a three dollar bill, in case you haven't noticed."

"He's my son so of FUCKIN course I know how he is, but he's your nephew Otis and you've been neglectin' him! Now git on outta here and take my gay son wi' ye!" She delivered a kick to his backside which sent him scrambling and casting dirty looks back at her.

"Can I come," asked Lilith hopefully, following close on her adored 'uncle's' heels. The fourteen-year-old was filling out already but still had that coltish youthfulness and exuberance. The girl's tits were already bigger than her mother Vera-Ellen's, it seems the teenager was going to be stacked like a brick shithouse. "I wanna go!"

"No you cannot," called Baby from upstairs. "You let yer brother go have a good time with Otis, now."

"Awwww," she whines, then blows a stray strand of strawberry-blonde hair out of her cherubic face. Otis reaches an arm around her widening shoulders and gives her a quick squeeze, which told her he hadn't completely abandoned her. Lily's biological father had been a big hoss of a man and the brother of Stacy, onetime lover of Otis. The only one who'd survived to birth a child far from the demented clan's reach.

Otis found Travis swinging on a grape vine out back, landing with a thud and a grunt then scrambling back up the tree again. It was a way to work out his frustrations. "C'mon Travis, we're goin to the circus up at Red Deer." He'd put on a long sleeved shirt to cover his artificial arm and a hat to shield his sensitive eyes. Ugh, he hated the midday sun.

"Woo, cool," the eleven year old boy declared, half-falling down the tree. He was slender and dark-haired with nicely tanned skin, but otherwise looked very much like his mother. He had her blue-green eyes and her build, and he was entirely the opposite of the hypermasculine Otis. He'd make a nice looking, well-shaped man someday, but there was marked feminine qualities to him. It didn't help that he would wear his sister's clothing and mother's makeup. At least right now he was acting like a normal boy, Otis thought to himself.


	2. Murder Ride, Anyone?

They passed Tiny moving some junk to clear out the front yard. He dropped part of one of their victims' cars and waved happily at Otis and Travis, shaking with mirth. He knew Mama had forced the albino to take the boy out and it grated on his already-frayed nerves. "Can it, Stumpfucker," growled Otis. Tiny gave him his huge middle finger and continued chuckling.

They got in Vera-Ellen's pickup truck and took off. Travis failed to ingratiate himself to Otis by putting in his Black Crowes cassette tape and cranking the volume. The man only hoped he could make it through the day without murdering Baby's precious son.

"I'm selling you to the circus midgets," he tells Travis.

"You wouldn't," the boy retorts indigantly. "Mama wouldn't let you back in the house."

Otis snorts.

"Hey, didn't Uncle RJ wrestle some in Alabama or summin?"

"Yep, he did. He kicked a lotta ass and got a lotta ass!"

"Well joinin' the circus wouldn't be so bad. I could be an animal trainer. But I hate midgets," he shudders.

"What the hell's wrong with midgets," demands Otis. Shit, everyone loves midgets! Don't they?

"Lily," called Mama, clipping along in her spandex capri pants and crop top, hair crimped and sticking out in a mane all over her head. Vera-Ellen had accepted the inevitable loss of youth but hadn't given up her battle with age without a fight. With a shake of her hip she still had men tripping over themselves to gawk at her or open doors for her. "Lilith, where are yew?" The girl wasn't in her room and she wasn't downstairs playing and she wasn't watching tv. Did she go somewhere with Rufus and his wife? She would've told her like a good girl; she knew not to worry her mama.

She decided to ask Tiny if he'd seen her. Snickering, he scribbled on his notepad then showed it to her. "She's what? Stowed away with Otis an' Travis? That rotten buzzard egg girl o' mine," she stomped her foot. She'd explicitly told the disobedient girl to stay here!

Ah well, she was a girl after her own heart.

Otis had enough cotton candy to choke a mule that day, and spent his hard-stolen money letting Travis play games which he mostly lost at. Then he finally relented and let him ride the broken-down malnourished old elephant the place was displaying. Then the older man rolled his eyes at the Ghost Ride. Travis was positively adamant; he _had_ to see it, had to had to had to! He reminded Otis acutely of Baby in one of her petulant moods complete with lower lip sticking out in a pout.

"It's gonna suck," he sourly told the youth.

"No it won't! Besides I've never ridden a ride like that."

"Let's go look at the sideshow freaks," Otis suggests. He'd love to see if Alligator Girl had scales all over..heh heh...

"We can do that after we go on the ride."

"Awright, fine," he threw up his hands. Maybe he could give the little terd some money to play some more games later and let Alligator Girl meet his trouser snake. A big grin spread across his craggy face at that thought.

They began making their way to the ride in question when out of the blue Otis' bionic hand shoots out and grasps a fistful of reddish-blonde hair. "Owww," went the girl attached to the hair.

"Lily," cried Travis in surprise. How the hell did she get here?

"Girl, you should know better 'n that--I could sense ya." Since the chemicals and experiments he'd done to himself he found he was now blessed with certain gifts, such as limited precognition and telepathy. He was also tougher than old leather despite all the abuse (self-inflicted and otherwise) he'd suffered over the years. His hair and eyes were more faded than ever but he was quick and alert as he always was. "Baby will never let me hear the end of it," he groused, shaking Lily another good time or two before letting her loose.

"I wanted to see the freakshow," she sulked. Otis took her by the arm and dragged her along as he and Travis continued their way to the Ghost Ride.

Two freakin' brats...god damn, two freakin' brats to keep up with until he got home, Otis kept thinking furiously to himself. It was a mantra he kept repeating as the so-called ride began to bore him. It was boring Lily as well, he could see--she was truly a creature with his own interests. To an eleven year old though, the cheesey show was very amusing. Travis began throwing his popcorn at the "monsters" and "ghouls", some of whom were real people and didn't take too kindly to being pelted with snack food.

Hmm, the boy might be onto something there, Otis said to himself. "Look kid," griped an asshole in a Frankenstein costume, out of character and out of sorts as well. "I still got 3 more hours left in my shift and you're not making it any easier for me. So cool it."

"You backsassin' my nephew there, Sonny," asked Otis grimly, stepping out of the little ride car they were seated in. Lilith and Travis followed suit, surrounding the unsuspecting faux-Frankenstein and grinning maniacally.

The trio exited the Ghost Ride smiling smugly with splotches of red on their persons which they mostly wiped off. That ride wasn't so bad after they spiced it up a bit.

"Hey," called an attendant. "What's all this mess in here? Damn, it's all dark but it looks like food and stuff all over! Did you guys do that? Come back here!"

"Uh oh," said Travis, blue eyes going big.

"Time to skidaddle," Lily pulled her brother after her, striding to catch up with Otis .


	3. Fun With Alligator Girl

After some deft maneuvering they lost the annoyed worker in the crowd, then doubled back to the sideshow. Aww, yeah, now this is what he needed, Otis thought. Ain't nothing like seeing real live freaks doing their thing, sure was more exciting than the pasted-together monstrosities in Cutter's 'museum'. Travis even had a blast, except for the midgets making him uncomfortable. "You need to get over yer dwarf hangups, squirt," Otis mock-admonished. After the showing the long, lean man with the metal arm sauntered over to the Alligator Girl's tent, leaving Travis with his older sister and specific instructions not to go too far away and stay in the crowd. He also left a wad of cash with them so they could play games and buy candy.

Such a wonderful babysitter, Otis B. Driftwood.

The girl was brushing her hair before a cracked and stained dresser mirror and turned to him in surprise when she heard him enter. She was afflicted with a somewhat rare skin disease which left the epidermis tough and scaly like a reptile's and she was relatively impervious to most pain. She'd filed her fingernails and teeth for an even more shocking effect. She bared her crocodilian chompers at him and demanded, "Who the hell are you and what're you doing?"

"You could say I'm a big fan," he says in his gravelly voice. "I came for a private show."

Hooding her bright blue eyes under heavy lids she hisses, "The pleasure tent is on up that-a-way," she nodded in the direction. "Those girls can take care of you."

"I don't think ya understand," he says, stepping toward her and shedding the flannel shirt he wore and waving his bionic hand in front of her.

"What the--is that your _hand_," she took a step back. She was just annoyed at first, but now she was growing alarmed. She was alone in her tent clad only in her camisole and panties with some psycho with a metal hand advancing on her.

"I'm a freak too, sweetie. So come over here an' let's play nice," he motions her to her own small old bed which she hadn't made this morning. Dumbly she complies, noticing the gangly man hardly made a dent in her hard bed. He probably didn't weigh much more than her and she wasn't all that large, herself. She also found upon closer inspection he was much older than she had originally guaged, the fine lines around his eyes and mouth and on his forehead attested to that. Due to the wifebeater t-shirt he wore she espied scars and burn marks aplenty up and down his chiseled shoulder and arms. She couldn't tell if the stringy flaxen hair falling to the middle of his back was blond or grey, but she figured it was probably more grey. Her eyes dropped to the artificial hand again; it began just below the elbow and included lifelike, moving fingers which behaved just like his real one.

"Is that real," she wondered as he scooted closer to her.

"Oh, it's real, mama," he assured her, playing with a strand of her brown hair. "I've shown you mine, now you can show me yours."

Pulling back, incredulous, she snaps "This is it, buddy-ro. I'm scaly and I have claws and bad teeth."

"There's some things I haven't seen," he murmurs, nuzzling her neck and shoulder, bringing his desire into focus on her. She could feel his psychic net as it tried to soothe and instill lust in her. It was working, at least a little. The young woman slowly lowered herself to a supine position with Otis nibbling and kissing her face and throat. He then squeezed her breasts gently but persistantly, eliciting surprised gasps from the female. "What's your name, Gator Girl?"

"L-Linda," she stammers as he slips his fingers up her well-made but scaly thighs and into her warm slit.

Nope, it was smooth, moist and warm and intoxicating. After all, it had been quite some time since he'd had a willing partner. Good fucktoys were hard to come by anymore, and it didn't help that his sexual urges were sporadic as he aged. But man, he was aroused at the moment and wasted no time unzipping his ripped straight-legged jeans and yanking Linda's drawers down.

Freaks freaks freaks...he always wanted to fuck somebody freakier than he himself was, and he plunged deeply into her warm tunnel. He held her close to him as they rocked together, Linda biting her crusty lower lip as he hit the right spot. Her leathery hide rubbed against his own pasty skin which added to the friction and tittilation.

Otis was enjoying the living hell out of wetting his dick with a live albeit freak female when his niece's voice cut through the blanket of pleasure around him.

"Uncle Otis! OTIS," she was screaming, and there was a scuffle outside.

In an instant he pulled out of dear Alligator Girl and was scrambling for the exit, zipping his pants back up.

When he emerged from the tent he was confronted with the sight of several big circus goons with their hands on his adopted sister's children. "Hey there, fagtards! What're ye doin to my kids?"

"You guys fuckin' murdered one o' our workers, or at least know summin about it! You're all comin with us," the biggest, meanest one barks.

"Izzat so," challenges Otis, baring his crooked teeth in a wild-eyed grimace. "Where's the police?" At the silence that greeted him he guffaws. "You guys ain't runnin' a legit place, are ya? What is it, the prostitution, or drugs maybe? Maybe _I_ should call the cops, what say?"

"Bring em," the leader orders.

The thin albino breaks the arm of the first man to lay hands on him with ease and was crushing the skull of another with his metallic hand when several pairs of strong hands force him down to the ground. "Lith, run! Get outta here and bring help," he tells the teenager. "Travis, don't fight! I don't want ya hurt," he tells the boy. Still struggling, he only stopped when something hard hit his head with bonecrunching force.

He opened his eyes slowly, his head throbbing with dull pain and tried to raise to a sitting position and found his hands tied behind his back. He managed to work his way upright since he was against the wall of a dingy, cluttered trailer.

"Otis, you all right," came Travis' shaky child's voice.

"Yeah," he finally replied.

"You hate me, don't ya," the effeminate boy sniffed. "It was my fault we were out here to get into this mess."

Otis glanced over at the darkhaired boy affectionately and confirmed that he was unharmed. "Naw," he answered. "I shoulda been watchin' you guys."

"I don't understand it," came a voice from outside the trailer. "That skinny asshole shoulda been dead, I heard 'is skull crack."

"Aw, you're gettin soft I bet," came the retort. "So what does Tony want done with em?"

"Beats me. Probably wants to see if they were sent by a rival gang to sabotage us."

Otis sits very still until he hears and senses them depart, then breaks out of his bonds easily.

Otis jumped the 'guards' and had their insides pulled out in a few seconds flat. For effect he looped the stinking intestines around one of their necks and wiped his bionic hand off on the unfortunate man's shirt. Sifting through their pockets his stuffs cash in his own pants and keeps the gun and knives he found. Now if they could just make it to the truck...

Travis was handed a small wicked-looking knife and he stuck to Otis like a burr. "You think Lily got away," he whispered to Otis anxiously.

"Yeah, if she's anything like her mom she's on her way back to Ruggsville to send the reinforcements," replied the man, pale eyes darting all around. They were still some ways from the parking area.

Luckily they made it to Baby's truck with no incident, both jumping inside and Otis gunning the motor and peeling out. Little did they know the circus people had an ambush waiting for them just down the road.

RJ and his wife Rita showed up at the Firefly house that evening and found Vera-Ellen on the front porch mending holes in her rambunctious childrens' clothing. The massive man could discern something was wrong, he'd been around his sister enough to read her. She told him about sending Travis and Otis off to the circus and Lily stowing away to go to, and she was growing worried and anxious. Rufus told her that everything was probably fine and that all three would be home in a couple hours, safe and sound.

"I hope yore right," she murmured softly.

"Holy shit on a stick," swore Otis, swerving the truck and almost tipping it over when he spotted gun-toting, vicious-looking men waiting for them. Travis tumbled about in the cab squealing and his guardian's hand shot out to steady him then motioned him down. Glass from the window exploded from shotgun shells bursting through; the sideshow mercs had opened fire on them. Whipping the vehicle back onto the road he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and aimed the rolling three ton hunk of metal toward the fuckers. "Stay down," he told Travis who was cringing in the floorboards with his hands over his head.

The faded blue truck plowed through two of the goons, killing them and tossing their broken bodies to the side while the others jumped out of the way. "Yeah, come on," hissed Otis, hoping they were home free.

Not quite.


	4. Too Much Fun? And More

At nearly the same time both back tires of the vehicle were blown out by buckshot, fishtailing the truck wildly. It slammed full-tilt into a wide tree. Travis squeaked but was unhurt as Otis opened his eyes and peered through the smoke issuing from the ruined engine. "Dammit, move," he ordered, the frightened boy jumping right out the busted window. Pulling the handgun he'd appropriated he proceeded plugging the approaching enemies but they had him far outgunned--they needed to get some cover.

They were almost upon them, rifles and shotguns trained on the two males when a screaming, inhumanly fast figure tore out of the brush and attacked them from the side, screaming. She soon had a shotgun from the hands of one of the circus employees and pulled the trigger point-blank. Shot and scarlet sprayed forth in a wide arc, cutting down most of them near her.

"Fuckin'-A, Lily," crowed Otis as he ran to the few remaining thugs.

Grasping the blade given to him by Otis Travis ran toward a man, darting under the blow swung at him and sticking the man's stomach with it. It slid in surprisingly easily with a chuk causing the fellow to drop his weapon and scrabbling, trying to pull the knife out. Warm stickiness was suddenly on the boys hand and he glanced down to see the man's blood pouring out of the wound. Then Travis was clocked in the side of the head. Yelling, he yanked the knife out and stabbed the guy again with it. And again.

When the fog in his eyes cleared Travis beheld myriad bodies splayed across a couple dozen yards distance, all dead. Otis grabbed him, squeezing and asking if he was all right. "Yeah...I'm fine," he said, a bit dazed. Then he clung to his uncle's lean frame, feeling strangely safe and secure of a sudden. Then he noticed the casually dressed stranger standing with Lily breathing heavily. It was the Alligator Girl!

Otis was whispering to her softly and stroking her lustrous hair. "You sure," he questioned her earnestly. "You have a welcome place with us, Linda."

"Naw, I'll be fine," she told him. "I've known about their shit for a while now. Tony can fuck the hell off. I have family in Arizona I can go to. But thanks," she kissed him warmly.

Linda was unarmed and while Travis stepped over the corpses he saw how she'd helped; many had been bitten and clawed viciously and crimson stained her hands and arms. He wanted to be assured and assertive like that, instead he was always afraid and unsure. As if reading his thoughts (which, due to his altered state he probably did) Otis laid his flesh hand on the boy's shoulder and said, "Yer first kill, little man. Baby'll be proud o' you, and I am too."

The Alligator Girl watched the family depart in one of the circus vehicles, dust kicking up after the moving shape as it receded into the distance. Sighing, she picks the dead bodies clean of their valuables and takes another car and departs as well.

Travis fell asleep leaning against his uncle's arm as they began the trek back. Lily was uncharacteristically quiet and pensive. Probably still miffed about the scolding Otis had administered about her sneaking off to go with them. She retorted that she'd helped saved their lives to which Otis had no answer.

He just wanted to be an asshole. It was something he was good at.

RJ was working on one of Baby's junked cars when he saw an unfamiliar automobile pull up into the driveway. Ever suspicious he hid until he saw Otis, Travis and Lilith exit. "Baby," Rufus called. "Rita! They're back!"

Baby came running outside barefoot and swept her children into her matronly embrace, kissing and cooing. "I knew something was wrong, I just knew it! Otis and his 'power' an' all that...oh my doll-babies," she kissed and squeezed them some more. Then she turned to her half-brother, aggarvated and relieved and adoring all at once. She leapt into his arms and squeezed him as well, acutely aware of his thinness, his sharp bones digging into her own frame slightly softened with age and motherhood. There was mud and bloodstains on them she could see.

"Next time, YOU take em to the circus, Angel," Otis declares.

Summer of 1976, Ruggsville

Baby burst into the musty bedroom, bubbling over with excitement. "Stacy, Stacy wake up! Me an' Mama finished the costumes. Come on let's try em out," she tugged on the large redheaded woman who was snuggled up to Otis. Both were naked under the sheets from collapsing exhausted after a couple bouts of lovemaking that night but the blonde was oblivious in her attempt at rousing Stacy.

"What, now," groaned the woman with the gold-flecked eyes and freckles and smacking her lips.

Otis rolled over and growled low in his throat. "Jesus H. Christ, Baby, you forget how ta knock?"

"I knew you wouldn't answer anyway, ya cock. Come on," she pulled Stacy out of bed and thrusted a threadbare robe into her hands. "We can put on our talent show and use it to dress up for Halloween," she babbled as the sleepyheaded woman followed her to Mother's craft room. Otis pulled on a pair of stained camouflage army pants and went in search of something to wet his whistle.

Man, that woman really wore him out, heh heh. Passing by one of the family's uninhabited rooms he went in and kicked a male captive chained to the radiator for a giggle. "Hey puss-boy," he taunted the beaten, bleeding and ragged man. "The girls might be puttin on a show. If yer good you might get ta watch."

The dresses were done, carefully put together and measured for a perfect fit--sequined skintight dresses like something out of Old Hollywood. Mother Firefly was there gazing over the finished dresses, satisfied. "Sleepin late, are we dear," she croons when she spots Stacy. "Otis tuckered you out, I guess," she chortles. "This'll look so good on you," she goes on. "You have such a full, womanly shape, but yer strong and graceful, too. Baby'll have to teach ya to sing and dance, now!"

Hoo boy, thought Stacy.

My Angel Baby's so talented," she burbles indulgently over her daughter who smiles, swelling with the praise. "You girls could go over to the Frontier Fun Town and try out some moves and costumes on the guys hahaha."

Stacy wanted nothing to do with that and steered Mama's attention back to the costumes.

"Hey lookit this," came Otis' voice as he strutted into the room. He was wearing a button up flowered women's blouse and one of Mother's feather boas. "Damn, I feel sexy. Hey," he said as he looked in the standup mirror. "I look like Robert Plant's corpse! Yeehaw!"

Stacy and Baby fell over one another in laughter, then Stacy remembered the poor girl who he'd gotten the shirt from. She had to shut out the sound of him fucking the dead girl's corpse after he was done with her.

The girls performed before their captive audience, Grampa whooping and hollering at the right moments. The bound and gagged man could only wiggle and moan, tears falling down his cheeks when he thought about what was to become of him...probably the same fate as his now deceased friends. Otis had shown him his girlfriend whom he'd tried his hand at mummifying...it would be a couple more weeks in the salt before it would be a proper mummy, but still...it was grotesque. Otis had such fun pulling the girl's brains through her broken nose and stuffing her body cavity with the herbs and salt, he might try making another one.

Stacy wasn't much of a song-and-dance type even though she enjoyed shows and music and missed most of the cues but thankfully Baby was too happy to be annoyed with her, belting out a stirring rendition of Sinatra's "New York" with gusto.

"...I'm leavin' today...Time to make a brand new start of it, New York, New Yoooork.."

"Ain't they summin," commented Otis, for once sitting in on the entertainment. He was beside the clan matriarch still wearing the woman's blouse and a ladies' straw sunhat, besides.

"Yeah," sighed Mother, fluttering her heavily made-up eyes. "Baby needed another girl around, and that un ain't like all the others. Hopefully 'fore New Year's there'll be a lil bundle o' joy to take care of."

Pulling the hat off and shogging up his long, thin hair he rolled his eyes skyward. "God you gotta one track mind."

"Well don'tya think it's bout time for another generation," she demanded in earnest. "Poor Grampa'll soon be gone, and I won't be around forever."


	5. Skippin' About

"Well don'tya think it's bout time for another generation," she demanded in earnest. "Poor Grampa'll soon be gone, and I won't be around forever."

Stacy was powerless to stop the inevitable fate of all 'rabbits' as he called their victimsl--she turned away and went upstairs to turn Baby's radio up loud to drown out the guy's screams. Later she found out Vera-Ellen had taken a rusty hacksaw to his neck, ever so slowly, and it was several passes before his life spurted out and his misery was over.

She still managed to molest the headless corpse until her lust was satiated, then made her way to the tub to wash off the blood.

--May 2000--

You know! I'm in league with Satan and  
You know! There can be no debatin  
My hellbound trail...I was born with a tail...

What in the fuck was that kid listening to, thought Vera-Ellen. He seriously needed to turn that shit off before they started getting customers. Someone coming in to buy a socket wrench don't want to hear the song "Creepy Jackalope Eye" blaring out at them by the Supersuckers. Checking the stack of cd's she confirmed it, that cowpoke punk band were the culprits...Well, Eddie Spaghetti can kiss my ass, she thought grimly, shutting the player off.

Kids nowadays. She clopped her way to the 'office' and smacked Travis in the head for good measure. "I tol' you ta stop playin that godawful shit durin' business hours!"

--March 1993--

Otis opened his eyes...he'd fallen asleep down in the underground system of tunnels he'd taken over and made his own, filling it with first his art and discarded victims, then pieces of medical equipment and chemicals for his experiments. Covered in dried blood and grime he rose from the old battered couch he'd brought from the trash dump and stretched like a tired old cat. Then he knew what had awoken him, someone had entered the tunnels and was nearing the room he was in.

"Well howdy, Rita," he greeted her while she stepped into the light. She'd come straight from her job it seems, still dressed in her nurse whites.

"Thought you'd be down here," the black woman remarked. Otis was an enigma; he was complex and intelligent but cold as ice at times. There were times they shared real warmth and friendship and others when he simply pushed everyone away. "What is it, Otis," she asked him point-blank. She knew something was amiss--working closely together in such an environment made her more aware of him, not to mention his mental powers he'd developed because of the things he'd injected himself with.

"It's the dreams again...they come more frequent."

"The woman, Stacy, and yore son?"

Looking away he answered yes. He hated revealing these things but knew it could get ugly if he didn't just talk to her. The woman was persistant and stubborn, almost as much as her husband RJ.

"You sure they ain't just dreams and nuthin more?"

"You know better n' that, prissy-pants," he snapped. She did, actually. She'd seen his uncanny abilities and the fact that no one could sneak up on him, indeed get with 50 yards of him without his knowing it. Usually even when he was asleep, too.

"Come on," the woman says, taking his lean arm in her hands. "Baby's got supper ready, come up an' eat."

--Summer, 1976--

Stacy was perusing some worn, dusty tomes in Otis' room and was surprised to find books on from Socrates, the Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and Demonology and Utopia. How had she come to accept this crazy situation, she wondered? Her fiance and best friend had been killed by this family of abominations but yet she'd been spared, and she intuited that Mother Firefly had a lot to do with it. But now Otis seemed to care for her of his own volition and they had indeed bonded. There was his philosophies written and scrawled all over the walls of the room and the smell of death, sweat, and fear clung to it.

"Who said you could pilfer in my shit," came the familiar growly tone.

"Nobody said I _couldn't_," she replied with impertinence.

Otis snickered at that, doffing the cowboy hat he was wearing and came toward her. "You are one spunky bitch," he whispered, his wiry arms sliding around her waist, pulling her against his lean form.

Their lips met and electricity seemed to race up and down both of them as they melted together. Her hands travelled up his chiseled abdomen under his ratty t-shirt, getting a soft moan out of him. She knew how to drive him crazy and they both knew it. "You really want it that bad," he hissed in her ear. "You ain't fakin?" It still surprised him that she didn't recoil at his touch like so many of the others.

"Does this answer your question," she pulled at his belt and unbuttoned his pants and reached for the object of her pleasure which was already hardening. He fondled a round, full breast and soon they were practically tearing at each other's clothes.

He was inside her warm, moist embrace, plunging with abandon. This was the best live girl he'd ever had. "AAhhh, fuck, Jesus fuckin' ice cream snow cone surprise," he squealed as he humped her senseless. She wrapped her shapely legs around his thin waist and encouraged him. He said some of the weirdest things during sex..once he even called her Mom.

Before you could describe it, it was all over, both of them lying panting in his bloodstained bed. Stacy had grown immune to it by now, the clutter and mold and the occasional bloodstain or body part...

Otis let her put her strong arms around him and snuggle, allowing her to think he was cuddling with her.

Otis didn't cuddle, unless it was with his dead cold playtoys, and that was only when no one else was looking. Eventually he gave her a sizzling kiss and eased out of bed...he had a burning desire to make art, and not even Stacy could dampen that.

She sure knew how to fuck, though.

Stacy had been living with the Fireflys since the early spring, remembering her former life in bits of nostalgia every now and then. That is, until Baby discovered Stacy's brother Tom snooping around looking for his beloved sister.

That moment changed everything...it woke her up and brought reality back to her, which saddened her. She had never felt so vibrant and free before, free from disapproving eyes and inhibitions or worries about what tomorrow might bring. Familial love for her sibling kept her up that night trying not to hear Baby having her way with him.

Vera-Ellen had him tied to a wood chair, hands bound behind the chair's back and she'd cut his t shirt off him and carved up his chest. She knelt and licked at the wounds, licking her pink lips provactively. She rose and straddled him, pulling her cropped shirt over her head and slinging it across the room then jutted those pert, perfect breasts into his face. Horrified he tried to turn away and got a stinging slap in the face. "Pay attention," she demanded, high voice going even more shrilly. "I bet you ain't had a good woman, have ya," she laughed, then began kissing him so sweetly he actually began enjoying it, and became even more horrified.

"Boy you're one tall drink o' water," she went on. Tom was indeed a big broad-shouldered red-haired specimen of a man, and Baby was burning up with lust for him. "Come on, big man, yeahhh...you wanna fuck me? You think yer man enough to fuck me?" Her slender hands undid he pants and began stroking him.

"Oooh, God," he was getting aroused much to his disbelief.

"Heh, your lips say no no, but your body says yes, yes," she says, hitching her skirt up still brandishing her polished, sharpened knife. Baby lightly touches Tom's cheek with the blade, not breaking the skin and travels slowly down his breast and abdomen, then with a swift motion cuts her own panties off, and gives them a sling as well. Tom's breath was coming fast with fear and hormones, his light brown eyes wide and dilated. Moving forward a little the blonde woman slid down his organ and waited a few full moments before raising up again, then back down. Men was so easy, Baby thought as she fucked him, a warm hole and set of tits and they're ready to go. Didn't matter she was cutting him (albeit very shallow cuts) and he was completely at her mercy.

It was probably sometime during that night Lilith Anna Firefly was conceived, although we can never be certain. One thing can be discerned for sure was that Tom had the night of his short life. Once Baby had fucked him a few times a night for close to a week she grew tired. She'd already grown tired of the other prisoner, Jim, for he didn't turn her on the way Tom did.

Still it didn't save Stacy's brother's life.

--Halloween, 1980--

Otis was dreaming of that elusive redhead, Stacy. It'd been four years since she'd came into their lives and then left, and he'd let her go. He could've killed her so easily, but he couldn't do it. He loved her, and she was carrying his seed within her when she fled with the would-be vigilante, Jim. Baby thinks she aborted it when she went back to the petty world, but he felt differently. He was sure she kept the baby, and sure that someday he'd see them both again.

And woe to Stacy when he did.

He yelled at Baby when she came prancing in, he really, really, really didn't feel the Halloween spirit this year. He didn't want to join in the revelry and after a heated argument Baby stomped back out of his room, complaining aloud to whomever would listen. The only thing that softened his rock solid depression was when the little girl of Vera-Ellen's came to pull at his long wispy hair and ask him to read her a book.

"Aw, not now Lily," Otis declared.

"Wead this to me," she said in her four-year-old's voice but with clear English. "Pweeeease Uncle Otis," she turned her big round green eyes up to the crazed albino and a tiny grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Sighing, he acquiesced. Damn, but she was even cuter than Baby. The book was called "Pete and Jenny's Halloween surprise."

Aw, a kid after his own heart.

--December, 1992--

_"Well, if it isn't my runaway bride," sneered the longhaired man, playing with his huge butcher knife. "You forget bout me already? YOU'RE MINE, BITCH!" Then Otis began cackling._

She snapped awake, gasping and sweating and looked frantically around the room. Her cozy single mother's bedroom with no hint of male habitation. God, the madman still haunted her even in her dreams. "Mom," came Tommy's bleary voice. "You ok?" She could hear him fumbling his way toward her room in the dark. "Mom?"

"Yeah, sweetie," she managed to say without squeaking. "I'm fine." She knew her son worried over her chronic drinking and recurring nightmares but didn't know how to begin telling him why. She'd made a decent life for herself and her child and didn't want to dredge up that old shit. Stacy felt her son's ever-growing frame sinking in the bed beside her. He was gonna be as big as his uncle and namesake from all indication. "Do you want me to get your pills," he whispers softly.

"No, I said I'm fine," she tells him firmly. She was the mother, dammit! The teenager accepted this without comment, but simply put his arms around his troubled mother. He didn't know what tormented her so, but he figured it had something to do with her bout of insanity during the mid-70's, which also coincided with his own birth.

Tommy intended to find out what the hell was going on.


End file.
